Wed by Wednesday (Passion in Paradise #4.5)

by Sarah O'Rourke

  “You,” he declared with a grin, nipping her chin with his teeth before stealing a kiss from her lips. “I think the word you were lookin’ for is ‘mind-blowing’, isn’t it?”

  “What mind? I think what little of my mind I had left melted when you did that thing to me with your fingers and your tongue,” she admitted shyly, burying her face in his throat as an embarrassed flush began to flood her face.

  “I’ll have to remember to do that again then the next time I’ve got you pinned under me,” he returned with a wicked grin.

  “Oh, my Lord, Jethro! Did we really just do all that together?” Orla asked as he moved to her side and pulled her into his arms. Resting her head on his chest, she shook her head, “I never would have believed I could feel like that… that I could act like that. Dear God, what would people think of me if they knew I could be like that?”

  “Like what?” Jethro grunted, nuzzling his nose into her soft hair.

  “You know… act so wanton. So needy,” she shared in a mortified whisper.

  “Tidbit, I love seein’ you wanton and needy for me. Don’t you worry a whit about that,” Jethro ordered, holding her closer. “You’re mine. As long as both of us are happy, what we do when we’re in bed together is our business. Nobody else matters. You worry about pleasin’ me, and I’ll worry about pleasin’ you. The rest of the world can go to hell,” Jethro proclaimed insistently.

  Orla smiled. “You pleased me so well that I felt like I’d died and gone to heaven there for a minute. But did I truly please you, Jethro? I’m so new to this. Almost stupid about it really,” she worried softly.

  Turning slightly, Jethro cupped Orla’s cheek, forcing her to meet his serious eyes. “Orla, I’m not a man that can turn a pretty phrase like the mealy mouthed boys your age, but I am a man that believes in telling the truth. And Tidbit, I never had it as good as you just gave it to me. You showed me Heaven when you wrapped you lips around my dick and you gave me a taste of Ambrosia when you came in my mouth. That’s the God’s honest truth. Tonight you showed me that when I do finally sink my dick inside you, the Earth is surely gonna move. And I can’t fuckin’ wait. Honey, finding you today was like getting a present I didn’t know I wanted. The best kind of unexpected shock.”

  “You mean it?” she asked hopefully as the butterflies in her tummy began to settle.

  “Every. Single. Word.”

  Orla knew in Jethro’s world, his words were his bond. Hearing them now, her anxiety faded. “I’m so happy I got on that bus this morning, Jethro. I was just sick with nerves all the way here, but I was determined to come find my future.”

  “Well, you found him, darlin’. And I ain’t never gonna turn you loose,” Jethro swore solemnly.

  And as she snuggled into his embrace, his big, warm body cuddling hers, Orla’s heart lightened as her tired eyes drifted closed. It was all going to be okay now.

  Because at long last, she finally found where she belonged. Right here, in Jethro McKinnon’s arms.

  Chapter Nine

  Orla

  Yawning as she stretched her arms above her head and rolled to her side, the first thing Orla noticed upon opening her eyes was that she was alone in the bed. Lifting her head from the pillow, she looked around the still mostly dark room to find herself all by her lonesome. Looking at the pillow beside her, she touched it lightly and found it still warm with the indentation where Jethro’s head had laid beside hers and knew he couldn’t have been up for very long.

  Tossing back the quilts still covering her body, Orla shivered as she stood beside the bed. Quickly shrugging on her pale blue robe, she tied the sash tightly around her waist as she trudged toward the window. Since it was barely daylight out, she estimated that it couldn’t be much past five in the morning. Squinting to see the alarm clock on the nightstand, she nodded.

  5:05 am.

  Wiping the sleep from her eyes with one hand as she parted the curtain with the other, her jaw fell a second later as she got her first look outside.

  “Holy smokes!” she breathed, blinking rapidly as she stared at the snow covered side yard. “There must be a foot of snow on the ground!” she squealed.

  “Closer to a foot and a half,” Jethro’s amused voice drawled from behind her.

  Spinning on her bare heel, Orla’s overjoyed face glowed. “Snow, Jethro! Real, actual snow!” she squealed as he crossed the room to her, holding out a steaming mug of hot coffee.

  “Brought you a little something to get your morning started off right. I hope you take cream and sugar. When I make the coffee around here, it could pass for tar. I doctored yours up a little.”

  “Cream and sugar is wonderful.” Orla nodded eagerly, looking back over her shoulder at the falling snow. “It’s still really coming down,” she breathed, still awestruck by the thick blanket of white snow that had fallen over everything outside.

  “It is. It’s a wet, heavy snow, too. Radio says we could get a couple more feet before nightfall. Mother McKinnon has already called. She’s staying put with Sister Goodkind and she’s gonna telephone over to Hawk’s friend and ask if he can stay there, too. School’s already been called off and the kids will probably wanna play in the snow all day anyway.”

  “Playing sounds fun,” Orla suggested. “Maybe we could build a snowman.”

  “Maybe later. For now, I’ll need to get moving soon. Gotta get this tobacco off to the sale and get back before the snow makes the roads too dangerous to drive, but I wanted to show you how to milk the cows this morning. We’ll leave the eggs ‘til later to collect. I ain’t got time to teach you how to approach the hens. We need to shake a leg. I’ve already got breakfast on the table downstairs. Just toast and eggs. Nothing fancy.”

  “Afraid I’d poison you?” she asked with twinkling eyes as she accepted the enamel mug he held out to her.

  “Nah, just tryin’ to save us some time,” he replied with a smile, leaning forward to brush his lips against her cheek as he handed off the coffee. “How much time do you need to get ready? You’ll need to wear the warmest clothes you’ve got,” he said with a look toward her still packed suitcases. “I’m guessing that you don’t have much in the way of winter clothes.”

  Orla shook her head. “A few sweaters to wear over my dresses.”

  Sighing, Jethro nodded. “I’ll find a pair of Mother McKinnon’s old boots for you to wear out to the barn with me, and you can wear one of my coats. We’ll need to make a list of things you’ll need and order them.”

  Feeling guilty for the trouble he was going to for her, Orla shifted on her bare feet and bent her head to stare where her toes peeked out from under the edge of her robe. “I can pay for it if you like,” she offered, wondering if he was thinking she was becoming too much of an unwanted burden.

  As if he could read her mind, Jethro frowned. “Tidbit, money is not an issue for me. I’m more concerned that you don’t have what you need. It’s cold as a witch’s titty in a brass bra out there this morning,” he said with a nod at the window. “Hell, even polar bears would say it was too cold to leave the cave. I don’t want you takin’ ill because you don’t have what you need. I hate the idea of you having to make do, but it’s not as though we can do anything about it today. And just so you know - your money is yours for you to use as you please. I’ll take care of all your expenses from this point forward, and that includes your clothes. Understand?” he asked, using a finger on her chin to tilt her head up.

  “I understand,” she agreed softly.

  “Good,” he murmured. “Now tell me good morning and kiss your man,” he demanded gruffly as one arm curled around her waist.

  Holding her coffee out to her side so she didn’t spill on him, Orla lifted her face to his and offered him a soft look. “Good morning, Jethro.”

  “And my kiss?” he growled, dropping a hand to pinch her ass.

  Giggling, Orla rolled her eyes. “You know, some folks might call you a bully, sir.”

  “Some folks can go ta
ke a long walk off a short pier. I want my damn kiss.”

  “Oh, all right,” Orla declared with a theatrical huff and a toss of her head. “If I must,” she laughed, rising on her tiptoes to press her lips to his.

  A long minute later, Jethro drew back. “For future reference, Tidbit, that’s the way I wanna be greeted every morning.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Farmer Man. Now, run along. You’re in a hurry, remember?” she reminded him, making a shooing motion with her fingers. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  Taking a step back, Jethro nodded. “Be quick, darlin’. The weather’s gettin’ worse every second, and Tulip and Buttercup won’t be real happy if we’re too much later milkin’ them.”

  Nodding, Orla grinned. “I can’t wait to meet them,” she said, putting her coffee cup on the corner of the dresser. “Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll meet you in the kitchen for a quick breakfast and we can get started.”

  “See you in a few,” Jethro agreed before disappearing out the bedroom door again.

  Orla rushed through her morning ablutions quickly, donning a red checkered dress and layering it with a warm, wool cardigan sweater. Slipping on her shoes, she quickly brushed her unruly hair and pulled it into a quick twist on top of her head. Snatching up the apron she wore the day before, she tied it around her waist. Taking an extra minute to quickly, but neatly, make the bed she’d shared with Jethro, Orla smiled as she ran her hand over the coverlet, smoothing out the wrinkles. Last night had been perfect, and she could only hope that today would be equally wonderful and pass quickly. Because truthfully, she couldn’t wait to be wed on Wednesday. Her marriage would be the best Christmas gift she’d ever gotten.

  And with that hopeful thought, she switched off the bedside lamp and hurried down the stairs toward the kitchen where her future husband waited.

  ~***~

  Half an hour later, Orla shivered despite the heavy sheepskin coat and boots covering her feet. Between the brutally cold, howling wind and the stinging snow that kept hitting her face, penetrating with the force of a million tiny icy needles, she was freezing. Trudging behind Jethro, she struggled to keep up. Because unlike her, he was able to move easily through the snow, eating the distance between the back porch to the nearest barn easily with his long strides.

  Pausing to look behind him, he shielded his eyes with one hand, squinting as he tried to see her through the snow. “Orla?” he yelled.

  Stumbling toward him, Orla tried to step in the tracks his boots had left in the snow. “I’m here,” she called back, hurrying toward him. She’d been able to tell during their short breakfast that the weather had darkened his mood, and she didn’t want to do anything to add to it.

  Holding out a gloved hand, Jethro reached for her hand, pulling her closer to him. “You need to keep up,” he growled, his tone growing even surlier. “This snow’s coming down so fast, it makes it hard to see your hand in front of your face. You don’t wanna get separated and get lost out here in this mess, Orla, so stay alert back there.”

  She hardly thought she’d get lost from the house to the nearest barn since it could plainly be seen from the back porch, but she remained quiet, unwilling to aggravate the busy man in front of her. She knew he had a lot of chores to get through before nightfall and she desperately wanted to help him… to prove her worth. Relieved when they reached the barn, she nodded to Jethro when he held the wood open and gestured for her to go inside ahead of him.

  Pulling the sodden blue cap Jethro had lent her off her head as she stepped inside the barn, Orla grimaced as a horrible smell assaulted her nose. “Good gravy, what is that horrible stench?” she coughed as she heard Jethro slide the barn door closed behind him. “Did something die in here recently, Jethro?”

  Jethro laughed as he stomped his boots against the ground, dislodging the crusted snow he’d collected from the walk to the barn. “No, Orla. Nothing died. Everything in this barn is alive and well. It’s just that animals ain’t real good at housekeeping, sweetheart. Unlike us, they do shit where they eat.”

  “Pardon?” Orla questioned blankly as she followed Jethro’s lead, stomping her own boots against the ground to shake off the snow. “I don’t understand.”

  “City Girl, you really don’t know shit about a farm, do you?” Jethro groused impatiently, running a hand through his hair. “What did you think? That the cows and horses and barn cats would be trained to go to the privy? It don’t work like that, woman. That smell is a mixture of cow and horse shit!” he explained, exasperated with her as he stood there shaking his head.

  Lips pressed together, Orla lifted her chin. “There’s no need to speak to me like I’m slow witted, Farmer Man! I told you yesterday that I didn’t know much about farm life! Don’t claim it’s brand new news now just because you’ve got a stick up your rear end about the weather. I didn’t collude with the Almighty to bring a near blizzard to your mountain!” Orla huffed, dropping her hands to her hips as she glared at him.

  “You sure about that?” Jethro grumbled as he stomped toward the paddocks that contained the two milk cows. “The weather’s as much of a surprise as you were.”

  “And we all know that you hate surprises,” Orla muttered, staring daggers at his broad back as she followed him through the barn, still several paces behind him.

  “What’d you say?” Jethro barked loudly over his shoulder, pausing to snatch a bucket from one of the many pegs hanging off the wall.

  “I was saying that while you might hate the trouble the snow has brought to your mountain, you can’t deny that it’s beautiful,” she said, hoping that if she engaged him in a conversation some of his tension might fade. She had a feeling, though, that until he and his farmhands got that load of remaining tobacco covered, loaded and delivered to wherever it needed to go, she was doomed to deal with the growls and grumps of one very grouchy Jethro McKinnon.

  “Beautifully dangerous,” Jethro retorted with a frown as he finally reached the stall where the first milk cow was located. Bending to grab the three-legged low wooden stool outside the stall door, he nodded to the door as Orla approached. “This here is Tulip’s paddock. She’s the complainer of our two milk cows.”

  “Complainer?” Orla echoed, cocking her head to the side as she stared at the man she was supposed to marry in less than twenty-four hours.

  Jethro hummed, opened the stall door. “This old girl will moo the whole time you milk her,” he said, stepping into the small stall with the cow.” Looking over his shoulder to where Orla still stood just outside the door, staring at the cow through the wooden slats, Jethro rolled his eyes. “Well, c’mon, City Girl. Time’s a’wastin’. Or, do you think you’re suddenly too good to milk a cow?” he taunted. “Maybe you’ve changed your mind about bein’ a lowly farmer’s wife.”

  Jerking her eyes from the huge cow to Jethro, Orla’s face darkened – only this time it wasn’t growing red from the cold, but from her growing anger at her future bridegroom. “Jethro McKinnon, I don’t know what kind of bee buzzed into your britches, but if you speak to me like that one more time, you’re gonna be wearing that there bucket,” she growled, pointing to the pail he still held. “That’s it!”

  Jerking his head toward her like she’d lost her mind, Jethro settled a hand on the cow’s back when she let out a low moo. “What?” he returned with a frown at her.

  “You! I’ve had quite enough of your nastiness this morning, Farmer Man,” she declared, stomping through the hay on the stall’s floor to poke Jethro in the dead center of his chest. “You might be God’s gift to the farming community, but right now you are actin’ like a whiny boy that’s not been allowed to go play with his friends. I’m sorry that I’m ignorant of all things farm-related. I was raised in the middle of Atlanta! But, I’m here now, you big bully, and I’m ready, willing, and able to work. No, I don’t have any experience on a farm, but I’m a quick study and more than willing to learn, Jethro. So, put away your snarls and sneers and teach me! Because
if you’re trying to scare me off your sacred farm, you’ve failed! I’m staying!!” she announced, jabbing him with her finger again.

  Taken aback, Jethro merely stared at where Orla still stood, staring at him with eyes full of righteous fury and her finger still firmly imbedded in his chest. Slowly smiling, Jethro took a step closer to her, her arm bending between them, but not moving. “Is that so, Tidbit?”

  “Yes,” she returned with a sassy toss of her head. “To borrow one of your farming metaphors, Jethro, you got a taste of my milk last night. And by God, I am requiring you to buy my cow tomorrow! But in the meantime, you are going to teach me how to extract this cow’s milk right now,” she insisted, slapping Tulip’s hind end for emphasis.

  Jethro laughed as the cow lowed loudly and stomped her hoof, and Orla jumped a foot in the air. “Word to the wise, Tidbit… Tulip don’t really do well with sudden movements,” he shared with a grin, steadying Orla with a hand on her hip when she fell back against the stall’s wall.

  “She kicks?” Orla yelped, pointing at the bovine.

  “Yeah, baby, she occasionally kicks. Tulip’s got a bit of a temper.”

  Startled eyes going from the animal to the asshole, Orla’s lips pursed. “She’s not the only one.”

  Chastised, Jethro hung his head for a moment. “Okay, you got me. I’m bein’ a jackass. The weather is sort of wreaking havoc on getting the tobacco to market and it’s a huge part of our yearly income. But none of that is your fault or problem, Orla, and me being a… what’d you call it? Oh yeah, whiny boy… that’s not helping anything. I’m just not used to having to explain myself. I give orders and people follow them, but you’re not my employee. You’re going to be my wife and I need to adjust myself.”